


Portrait

by Lisa Martin (LisaM)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaM/pseuds/Lisa%20Martin
Summary: Sam paints a portrait of his lover. With words.
Relationships: Sam Beckett/Al Calavicci
Kudos: 3
Collections: The Angel and the Dreamer





	Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> First published in The Angel and the Dreamer #5

<

\----*----

It's almost dawn; the rays of sunlight are already peeking through the curtains. It's my favorite time of the day, always has been. The time when everything is quiet, apart from an occasional bird that has woken up early and can't wait to begin the day, the time to think. Some of my best ideas have come to me while I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I have to grin about that thought, Al will strongly disagree with me on that one. He would call it 'some of my most insane ideas'. Can't comment on that, really. The string theory, the basics anyway, Ziggy, all of those. 

Al. My thoughts return to him, as they always do. My companion through those crazy years of leaping, my hologram, my observer, my friend…my lover. Yes, lover, finally. Years of looking for the right person to share my life with came to an end, when I realized that that special person had been beside me for many years. The weeks of stress and uneasiness, not knowing how to tell him are still vivid memories. In the end, he told me. And I landed into heaven. 

He's still asleep beside me. I peek at him, careful not to move, I don't want to wake him. It's something I indulge myself in almost every morning, just watching him. 

He looks at peace; his face still and calm. A fierce contrast with the agitated look he wore most of the time when I was leaping. The lines in his face have faded a bit; his eyes are less haunted. Still, the stress isn't completely gone. Time will heal that too, I'm sure of that. I will do everything in my power to see that it will. 

I'm aware that I'm staring, but I can't help myself. I can't get enough of looking at him. At these moments I wish that I had artistic talent. I want to capture that face, draw it, paint it. Not an easy thing to do, even if I had that talent. A smile comes to my face as I recall Verbena's attempt. She has an artistic streak, and sometimes indulges herself with drawing the people on the Project. Her way of relaxing. She made a portrait of me just before I leaped, it's on the wall in Al's quarters. The smile turns into a broad grin as I recall Al's portrait. It had all the characteristics of a cartoon. It had us in stitches and Al offended. He didn't speak to her for weeks. She didn't try again, calls him 'Mr-Impossible-To-Draw". What he doesn't know is that I kept it. Some day I will scan it and use it as wallpaper on my computer. I have to stifle a grin, realizing that is probably a bad idea. Tempting none the less. 

I can't draw, but I can use words. Draw a portrait with words. Let's see. I take in his features, letting my eyes wander over that face. A lined face, each line telling its own story. Tales of hardship and pain mostly. A faint scar on his forehead. It has me wondering. He never told me how he got that, whether it's a left over from his days in Vietnam or from a fight with one of his wives. My bet is on the latter. 

His eyes are closed, but I don't need to see them to describe them. Dark brown, almost black. A heritage from his Italian parents no doubt. He has the most intense eyes. I've seen him getting men on their knees just by throwing them a look. He got me through some tough situations with those eyes. I only had to look and see the trust in them and know I could do anything. 

On to the mouth. Full lips, made for kissing. That's my overactive mind speaking here, um..make that libido. Mind has little to do with it. He drives me completely out of it when he kisses me. And when he's not kissing me. Like now. It's unbelievable what he does to me, even when he's asleep. But I was trying to paint a picture here, I remind myself, not get aroused. It doesn't help. My hormones are on the rampage, pushing everything aside that comes in their way. Like rational thought. 

As on cue his eyes fly open. Give it to Al to sense my arousal. His eyes narrow a bit first, squinting against the light. I summon up a smile from somewhere, trying very hard not to make a lecherous one. By the looks of it, I didn't succeed. That mouth stretches into a wide grin, eyes sparkling now. He knows. As always. Then something occurs to me. I could never paint a picture of what I'm seeing now, not in paint, not in words. Underneath that now very obvious desire, I see love. And that is impossible to capture.

The End


End file.
